Fostering Malice
by Rainbow Daydreamer
Summary: It should have been such an easy mission: land in Neopia disguised as an ordinary Korbat, gather information, prepare for the upcoming invasion and resist the evil enemy at all costs. But Neopians can be very confusing creatures...
1. Crash Landed

**Fostering Malice**

_All settings, species and most concepts in this story © Neopets, Inc., 2000-2010 and beyond.  
All named characters other than Dr. Death and Rose belong to me, Rainbow Daydreamer. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 1:  
Crash-Landed**

**

* * *

  
**

_Memo dictation start:_

_I have barely been on this wretched planet a few hours, and already the worst has happened. It distresses me to report that I have fallen into the hands of the enemy._

_I have no idea how they knew I was dangerous. The disguise technology was diligently researched by my own Commander Batrien, and I was sure that my appearance was one of a harmless, if unusually handsome, Neopet. But now that I am awake, I see I am behind bars. Somehow, the truth of my nature must have come to light while I was unconscious. The room I find myself in is slightly larger than my shuttle, but it offers no opportunity for escape. Nevertheless, I shall remain vigilant, and seize my chance at the first possible moment so that my mission can be completed._

_It will, I hope, be recorded that I have shown supreme bravery of the sort which might, purely as an example, be considered as evidence in a recommendation for promotion to full lieutenant. My resolve is absolute. The Neopians are our treacherous enemies, but no matter what foul creature or horrific abomination they send to interrogate me, I will remain stoic and uncompromising, and respond to every question with--_

"Yaagh!"

On the ceiling before he was even aware of flapping his wings, the Korbat tried desperately to press himself into a corner. The enormous, scaly yellow head that had appeared in front of him continued to draw closer, attached to an equally scaly and enormous body wrapped in some kind of white robe, and fixed him with a terrifying expression of disapproval.

"Well now, it seems you're awake," it said, gazing at him as he tried to back away. "Do you know why you're here?"

"I was unconscious," he snapped, and tried not to show how frustrated the fact made him. "What do you want from me, foul agent of death?"

"That's _Doctor _Death, thank you. And we don't want anything from you except the 250 Neopoints for keeping you here overnight. Dr. Gelert from the hospital treated your injuries, but there were no spare beds, so we put you up here. Don't worry, we'll get you home in a jiffy, at least as soon as you get down from that ceiling. Oh, and tell us who your owner is," the creature added, flexing and tapping its thin talons in a sinister manner.

Owner? He bridled. Who did this ignorant creature take him for? Stupid, subservient _pets _had owners!

"I have no owner!" he spat out, his voice filled with anger and hatred for the very idea of spending his life as the servant of some human. "Don't ask me such things!"

"Oh… I'm sorry." The creature's face changed. Insofar as he could tell, it seemed disappointed, even saddened. It reached into a pocket of its robe, withdrawing a small white card and a pen. "Well, then… I'm going to need you to tell me your name, please."

"My--" The Korbat bit his lip. His training, years ago now, returned to him. This creature was trying to put him at ease, to lull him into revealing information. Well, he would remain strong and give nothing away. Sneering at his captor, he barked out the conventional response. "I will tell you nothing but a number!"

The white-robed creature sighed deeply. "Oh, no. Not another one? These owners just have no imagination these days, do they? If I could give them a piece of my mind over at the Creation Centre…" It paused, then seemed to recover its lost thread. "Fine. Your _number, _then."

"761194123286," he supplied coldly. "And much good may it do you."

"Frankly, I'd lose the attitude," his captor said in a voice that was almost gentle. "You won't get out of here very fast if you snark at everyone who comes through."

"Encouraging me to collaborate. Top marks." Fluttering down from the ceiling, he rested his head on his wingtips. "Well, you've had as much as you're going to get from me. Leave me alone."

"As you wish." To his relief, the strange creature moved away, murmuring something that sounded like "angry stage of the grieving process" under its breath.

The Korbat breathed a sigh, letting himself flop into the corner. Now his captor was gone, he had time to survey his surroundings more carefully. There were bars on his window, as well as the door between himself and the corridor, and if he squinted through the gaps, he could see other barred doors further along, with Neopets sitting or standing behind them. He allowed himself a faint smile. Clearly, this was a prison for disobedient civilians. The Neopians were evidently so unprepared for combat that they did not even possess a facility for prisoners of war. Pathetic.

"Hey. Hey, you in there."

The words were repeated a few times before he realised they were addressed to him. Lifting his head, he noticed the creature looking through the barred internal window to his left. This one seemed to be a different breed of Neopet; crimson from head to toe, it had floppy ears, a fluffy fringe and exaggeratedly large paws. A tattered headband held its frankly scruffy fur back from its face.

"Me?" he repeated, hoping his distaste would serve to discourage the Neopet.

"Yeah, you," she replied, unrepentant. "I saw you lookin' scared out of your wits when the Doc was writing you up. It's your first time here, isn't it?"

He realised, belatedly, that she was speaking to him as if he were a Neopian himself. Perhaps not everyone was capable of seeing through his disguise. He settled for a nod, wondering where it would lead.

"Thought so. The Doc tries to be nice an' all, but it's still pretty hard on a newbie. What happened, did you just get pounded or somethin'?"

The word was unfamiliar, and he hoped the cover of his wings was enough to hide his fumbling for the companion device. Its dictionary paused for a moment before telling him the meaning of the verb. _Pound: to beat, pummel, thump._

"Pounded. Well, I suppose so," he murmured, recalling that after all he had been unconscious. He had blamed the bruises on the shuttle crash, but if this Neopet took such a casual attitude to the idea of being beaten up before coming to prison, perhaps the Neopians were more violent than he had previously thought. Despite himself, he gave a sharp shudder.

"That's rough," she told him, sympathetically. "Well, since you're new an' all, the Doc will probably be bringin' you dinner in your room. They don't _actually _let us starve to death here, for all the horror stories you get in the Times. Anythin' else I can help you with?"

The Korbat hesitated. An idea had occurred to him, but he couldn't help but wonder about the safety of it. Nevertheless, it seemed the best way of carrying out his sworn duty to the Commander. This Neopet was obviously a veteran of the Neopian punishment system, and no wonder; he could tell from her mere appearance that she carried a streak of disobedience to authority. When his companions returned to invade Neopia, pets like this one would have to be dealt with severely. For now, though, she was his best chance, whatever he thought of the prospect.

"Can you help me to get out of here?" he asked, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper.

He hadn't expected her to dissolve into hoots of laughter. "Of all things! Didn't expect you to be a pet after my own heart. Normally I'd be right there with you. I've tried escaping from this place more times than the Doc's had cold dinners, but I'm supposed to be a good little girl this week so I can get my privileges back and get the staff trusting me again. If I'm gonna help you, it's got to be hush-hush, okay? And I can't come with you."

The Korbat bit back the sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was an enemy civilian tagging along as he made his getaway. "I accept your conditions. Tell me what to do."

"Hmmm." She contemplated for a while. "There's the thing with the Flankin and the length of string… but I think Rose caught onto that one last year when I tried it. There's _that _one… no, you don't have a long enough tail. _That _one needs a south-facing window. It could be weeks before I can get my paws on the Doc's coffee supply. You don't have the body strength to manhandle a mop, do you? Well… I guess there's always the old sickbay trip gambit, isn't there?"

It took a moment for him to realise that the last question hadn't been rhetorical. "Oh. Um? I suppose so?"

"You really are new, aren'tcha?" She sighed. "Here's what you do. Fake being ill. Clutch your stomach a bit, maybe, and complain about aching all over. If you swallow some floor soap you'll probably get a fit of the hiccups, that might help. And make sure it's the Doc who comes to look at you, not Rosiebel-- she's the pink one. The Doc'll have to open up your cage to examine you…"

*

"I only hope we don't have to call out Dr. Gelert at this time of night," Dr. Death grumbled, turning his key in the lock. "Last time I did that, he made me buy him a batch of Purplum coffee. With biscuits, too."

The Korbat lay on the floor in silence, his wings crossed over his stomach. While the tip about the floor soap had indeed produced a fit of the hiccups, he couldn't help but feel his fellow prisoner should have been more informative about the quantity required. No longer needing to fake symptoms, he was genuinely feeling quite unwell. The attempt to grit his teeth and bear with the situation, as practiced by the role-models of his long-ago training sessions, was thwarted by the enormous hiccup that forced his mouth back open.

"Ker-hic!"

"Right, then." His captor swung back the door, and knelt down beside him. "Let's see about your stomach, now…"

With a flick of his foot, the Korbat launched his metal drinking dish off the ground. It slammed against Dr. Death's forehead with a sharp clang, and he seized the moment. His neighbour's words rang in his head as he took off: "Remember, you can fly, and the Doc can't."

Flight! Hard to imagine that it had barely even been a consideration when selecting the type of Neopet whose appearance he would take. Now it seemed as if nothing could be more liberating as he sailed down the corridor, drawing the eyes of dozens of surprised Neopets. In his head he was already picturing the tales of bravery and daring he would tell on his return, the story of his thrilling escape…

"Ker-hic!"

"And just what do you think you're doing? You're one of ours, aren't you?"

The voice was high and light, but no less sharp. A tall pink figure stepped through the door at the end of the corridor, alerted by the sound of his hiccups, and still carrying a clipboard between her outstretched hooves. His heart racing, he did his best to remain calm. _You can fly, and--_

The pink Neopet extended two improbably small wings from her shoulderblades, and took off in a flurry of feathers.

…_and she can fly, too, it would appear._

In one smooth curve, she blocked his path and slammed him to the ground with the clipboard. The blow wasn't hard, but it startled him more than a little. He wondered if this was the "pounding" that the inmates received.

"You, my dear," the creature announced, picking him up unceremoniously by his wings, "are going right back to your room. Let's see…" Striding down the corridor, she examined the doors as she passed them. "Oh, my. This has to be yours, doesn't it? With poor Dr. Death sitting in the corner with a bruise on his head! You're quite the violent little escapee, aren't you?" Her tone was soft, but he could tell she was frustrated in her own way. "Yes, you must be in here. Next to…" Suddenly, her voice shot up by an octave. "…DizzeeLara! Oh, I should have _known!"_

Her hoof slammed against the door next to his own. "I _thought _that kind of plan was too rebellious for a new resident! You put him up to it, didn't you, you incorrigible Zafara?"

"Ker-hic," he protested weakly, raising a wingtip.

"Absolutely not," the Korbat's neighbour retorted. "It was his own idea. I just figured I'd lend a bit of a paw." Despite her predicament, oddly enough, she was grinning. "Sorry, Rose. Guess there's no keepin' me well-behaved."

"I'll have her moved as soon as there's a spare room," Dr. Death put in, getting to his feet. "Inciting other pets to escape? As if we didn't have enough on our hands, Lara. For shame."

The Neopet called Rose dropped the Korbat in the corner of his room, making sure to double-lock the door on her way out. With a stern glance at the pet in the next room, she headed back the way she had come, Dr. Death following her. The corridor was silent, the quietness broken only by the Korbat's continuing hiccups.

"Sorry," Lara whispered at last. "I guess it was only a chance you'd get further than the lobby. I'll think of something better next time."

The Korbat lay slumped against the wall where Rose had dropped him, his spirit more crushed than before. "All I want is to get out of this place," he muttered. "I didn't believe it would be so, ker-hic, difficult."

"Everybody wants out, hon." Lara leant against the bars, massaging her face with both paws. "And with a number name like yours, it's gonna be a problem. But don't give up, okay? You never know what's gonna happen tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." He repeated the word, reflecting. He'd been so busy examining his surroundings for a way out that he'd completely forgotten to sleep. No wonder his energy levels were fluctuating so badly, especially in this pathetic small body.

"You gonna get some sleep, new kid?" Lara seemed to read his thoughts. "OK. If the Doc hasn't moved me before you wake up, I guess I'll see you in the mornin'."

*

"Wake up. Hey, new kid, wake _up!_"

He opened his eyes, all too aware that he had not slept for long enough. His neighbour was banging on the wall, trying to raise her voice as loud as she could without alerting anyone around them.

"I am awake," he muttered. "What do you require? Have you formed another plan for my escape?"

"Don't need one." Lara's grin was so bright that it seemed to dazzle. "You're one lucky duckie, new kid."

"I am a Korbat," he retorted, unsure even with his dictionary why she would mistake him for a waterproof toy.

"Well, you're a Korbat who just might be gettin' out of here this morning," she told him, still smiling. "I just got word. The pets with a window onto the first floor lobby saw Melanie's last pet get transferred today. You're in with a chance if she comes through here!"

The words meant nothing to him, but he followed her gaze towards the corridor. As he looked out, the door swung back and the jailer called Rose entered, a strange creature at her side. This one, at least, he had been taught to recognise in his training sessions, though he had never thought he would be forced to confront one so soon. Where were his weapons? Had the Neopians stolen them? How could he fight back against the hideous creature?

"Painted. High-level. LE. Cute name." The human moved down the corridor, followed by a Neopet. The words she spoke all checked out with his dictionary as being positive, but she had the tone of someone casually dismissing unworkable plans. "High-level, cute--"

"Hey, Melanie, it's DizzeeLara!" The Neopet with the fluffy neck-ruff waved a paw in their direction. "Can you believe she's still in here?"

"I don't think they're letting her out until she proves good behaviour. They might be waiting a while." The human passed by Lara's cell, pausing in front of the Korbat's. "Well now, what have we got here? Hey, come and look at this one!"

"761194123286," the Neopet read from the card. "A level 1 yellow Korbat. Melanie, you're so right! How'd you get so good at spotting them?"

"I'll send you to find the next one on your own. See if you can't rise to the challenge." The human knelt down beside the barred door. "Hey there, li'l Korbat. How'd you like me to get you out of here?"

The Korbat glanced across at Lara, who gave him a surreptitious nod. "I would very much like to get out of here," he admitted, unsure how he should be acting in the presence of the enemy.

"Brilliant!" the human enthused. "I'll get the paperwork signed."

He watched in silent bewilderment as the printed pages were produced, signed and marked with a stamp from Rose. The door was unlocked, seemingly without complaint from Dr. Death, and the human carried him out of his cell. He did his best not to shudder at the touch of her fleshy hands, and concentrated instead on the fresh oxygen, and the dazzling light from the blue sky.

"Take care, new kid," Lara whispered as they walked past. "You know where I am if you need me."

_This memorandum marks the end of my stay in captivity. However… something is telling me that my troubles on this planet are by no means at an end._

_Over and out._


	2. Captivity

**Chapter 2:**

**Captivity**

(K+ for injuries)

* * *

_Memo dictation start:_

_I was a fool to trust those treacherous Neopians. My time in captivity had damaged my judgement to the point where I actually believed their words. I am deeply ashamed and… (sound on the record that could be a shudder) …willingly submit my file for disciplinary procedures on my return if the Commander deems it necessary, although I sincerely HOPE this will not affect my promotion prospects._

_In short, the claim that I would be released from my imprisonment has proved to be a lie. I should have suspected as much when this… apparatus of some kind was fastened around my neck in the entrance of the jail. It is a stiff fabric cord, attached to a metal disc with some symbols etched into it. Its purpose I have yet to figure out._

_Meanwhile, it has become clear that my "liberation" from prison was merely a transfer to a different institution. My captors continue in their efforts to put me at ease, but to me they are merely servants of this inefficient and dishonourable planet, interchangeable and all alike…_

"Melanie," the human repeated. "Think you can remember that? And this li'l Cybunny is Rikora Lee. She's just as pleased to meet you as I am."

The Korbat allowed his captors the minor triumph of a small nod. He had no time to keep going over banal introductions.

"Now then," Melanie continued, glancing across at Rikora, "what are we going to call you, huh? You need a name."

"I have no name," he repeated, stiffening his body. "I can tell you only a number."

"Yeah, I know. Saw it on your card. 7611…94… something, right? Well, we can't have that. I'm not yelling _that _up the stairs. We've got to decide on something to call you."

"Do as you wish," he told them coldly, leaning back on the couch. It was comfortable, and there were no obvious restraints on him. However, he had a strange feeling that if he tried to leave, these two outwardly amiable jailers would come after him.

"Well, look at who's the little ray of sunshine," Rikora sighed, giving him a critical glance. "At least _try _a little, can't you? We did just rescue you from the Pound. Greatest horror of a Neopet's life, stale omelettes and flat drinking water, all that stuff you read in the Neopian Times!"

"'Kora. Come on." Melanie leant over to ruffle her Neopet's fur, lowering her voice. "Lara called him the new kid, didn't she? He's probably still getting over… you know."

"All right." The Cybunny stretched and yawned. "It'll take us a while to think of something, anyway. Maybe we should ask my guild for ideas?"

The Korbat listened in silence, unsure what was happening. If this was an interrogation technique, it was the most vague and untargeted one he had ever heard, and he had no idea how he should react. The training sessions had included nothing like this. Did they really still think they were dealing with a regular criminal, a thief or a rebel, rather than a prisoner of war? It seemed the only explanation.

He could try to terrorise them into releasing him. Blackmail was acceptable by the terms of his mission. But mentioning his Leader, or the details of his commander and fleet… no, that would be unwise. He took a breath.

"The… individual responsible for me will certainly be trying to trace me soon," he said as levelly as he could, his gaze fixed icily on Rikora. Vague intimidation seemed the best idea at this point. "He will find me, no matter where I am. You would be advised to let me leave this place and meet up with him."

He had expected a reaction from the human and her pet, but not quite the one that he was seeing. As he finished speaking, their eyes met, not in terror or bewilderment but in something completely unforeseen-- _recognition_.

"I guess you were right, Melanie," Rikora managed to say, clasping her paws uncomfortably in her lap. "He really _is _still getting over it-- I mean--"

Melanie ran one hand through her hair, suddenly crestfallen. "I knew he was a bit shell-shocked, but I… never thought I'd have to deal with--"

They turned back, as one, to look at the Korbat.

"_Denial._"

Somehow, the combined force of their voices made him distinctly uneasy. Tapping the companion device surreptitiously under his wing (denial: the act of refusing to comply, the act of claiming an allegation untrue), he did his best to rally. "I don't know what you're talking about."

With another of the shared glances that were quickly coming to frustrate him, Melanie and Rikora crossed the room, sitting down at either side of him on the couch. The human wrapped her arms around him in a sudden grip that made him wish he'd trained harder in the martial arts.

"Sweetie." Her grasp was firm, but she didn't seem to want to hurt him. What was she trying to do? "I know this is hard for you. But Rosiebel at the Pound must have talked to you about this when you first checked in. Your owner... or whatever you called him. He… the chances are he isn't going to come for you, sweetie. That's why you were _there._"

The Korbat kept his cool expression, but let himself breathe a little more deeply. _Now _he knew the game. Cooperation. If they could convince him, as gently and sweetly as this, that no-one was ever coming for him… that he had been written off as dead after the shuttle had crashed… then he would lose all hope. All motivation. All reason to _resist._

Protesting was no use. If he insisted that his fleet would come to find him, the devious human and her Cybunny would find some way to get the details about the "fleet" out of him… then work even harder to crush his spirit. No, the simplest course of action was…

"Perhaps you may be right," he acknowledged, resting his head on his wing. "It's true that I don't really know what's happening any more."

"Oh, _sweetie._" Melanie clutched him tighter, knocking some of the air from his lungs. "It'll be okay. We're here to help you, 'Kora and me. You'll get through this."

A good reaction, despite the restricting arm. He decided to push his luck. "I… would appreciate some time to myself," he hazarded.

"Oh, of course." The human girl loosened her grip. "Hey, 'Kora, will you show him to his room?"

So this was how it would be, he reflected. No doubt this was a deliberate contrast to the cramped cells he'd just left, a further incentive to compliance. He would be allowed to move around the building, as long as he behaved. That, at least, offered some scope for escape.

"Hey, are you all right?" Rikora stepped back onto the landing. "Why are you _walking _up those stairs? You've got wings, right?"

"Oh! Uh… yes." Curses. Force of habit. "Of course I have wings. I'll be with you in a moment."

Letting the Cybunny push the door open for him, he flapped half-heartedly into the room. It was markedly different to his berth on base; there was something he recognized as a bed, certainly, but it was covered in great swathes of ruffled material serving no obvious purpose. A single window looked out onto a small green area outside. On the bed sat a collection of strange miniature creatures, staring at him with unmoving beady black eyes. He recoiled. "What… what are those things? Are they watching me?"

Rikora looked at him pityingly. "You've really never seen a plushie before? No, of course they're not watching you. They're made of fabric and fluff, silly." She shook her head. "Your owner must've been a real jerk, never letting you see a plushie in your life and then not even telling you what was happening when he disowned you. Well, don't worry. Me and Melanie, we'll find someone much better for you. Promise."

*

Commander Batrien had always told his sub-lieutenant that a good operative, when stranded for any length of time in unfamiliar territory, examined the area for any useful materials. With these words in mind, the Korbat took in his new surroundings.

There were books on the shelves near the bed, and he took a moment to look at one. It was his first encounter with a book in paper, not digital, format, and he flicked through the pages curiously. The subject matter eluded him; it seemed to be entirely devoted to recounting the exploits of a Neopet he had never heard of, with no obvious moral or lesson, much less an explanation of what was supposed to be demonstrated by the long anecdote. With a shake of his head, he set the book down and continued his search.

A wooden stick, wider at one end than the other, sitting next to a spherical object that might have been a grenade, but was more likely to be a simple projectile. Weapons at last! There was a bag propped up next to the end of the bed, and he hurriedly packed the sphere away into it, laying the stick on the windowsill.

A strange green liquid in a plastic bottle. Some kind of potion? He squirted a little onto his wingtip and raised it to his mouth. The vile taste forced him to spit immediately, even though he'd tested hundreds of experimental potions in his time. Was this some kind of trick? No, the Neopians would have no reason to poison him before he had revealed any information, and either poison or truth serum would need to be swallowed. On closer inspection, he saw a faded paper label: HAIR GEL. He knew what hair was, though he himself had never possessed any. Presumably the potion would have had a different effect on him if he did.

That seemed to be the sum total of useful things in the room. He didn't imagine he'd have much use for the creepy, black-eyed "plushies". Putting his large ear against the door, he listened intently. Nobody seemed to be outside.

Raising the stick over his head, he smacked it against the window. The glass shattered, showering fragments across the floor. The gap was big enough for him to clamber out onto the ledge.

So far, so good. But the bag with the stick and sphere was still inside the room. He would have liked to leave it behind, but he was going to need weapons until he found his ship or made it back to safety. Reaching back through the broken window, he tried to pull it towards him.

"Seven-six-eleven? Are you all right?"

On the other side of the room, the human flung the door open. Startled by the sudden noise, the Korbat lost his balance and scrabbled for a foothold on the ledge. He toppled backwards helplessly, catching his wing on one of the jagged pieces of glass as he fell. The pain was hot and sharp, but he barely had a moment to register it before landing on the grass with a thud.

"Oh, my!" The human's voice floated down from above. "What in the world…?"

Head reeling, wing bleeding, he pulled himself desperately across the grass. He had to escape. There would never be such a good chance again. Leaving a trail of blood drops behind him, he dragged himself out of the grass, across the expanse of grey pavement. Voices rang in his ears from somewhere nearby, horrified and confused.

"What's that Korbat doing, Mama?"

"Oh, goodness! Somebody call Dr. Gelert at once!"

"Don't look, darling—"

"Is that blood? He's _bleeding _on my _garden path!_"

"Where is his owner? This is an outrage!"

The world had become dizzy and blurred. Though he kept trying to pull himself further along the street, he knew in his heart that he wasn't going to make it. Turning his head in the vague direction of the Neopians, he spat out a few defiant words. "You will never force me to cooperate. You stupid, blindly obedient, suboptimal creatures! Pathetic slaves of flimsy faeries! Be ashamed of your… your own…" He swallowed hard as his vision began to swim. "Your…"

"Out of the way! Let us through! That's our Korbat!"

There was a sound of running feet and paws, coming nearer and nearer. Something lifted him off the ground, and a soft, fluffy face pressed itself against him. "Oh, Fyora… are you okay? Is he okay, Melanie?"

"I don't know." There was something strange about the human's voice. He had expected triumph at recapturing her prisoner, but that wasn't quite it. He was sure he could figure out what it was if he could only… think straight…

"Shhh. It's okay." Rikora's paw touched him. "Don't try to move. I'll go get the doctor."

He tried to focus, but it was too much for him. The world turned from fuzzy, faint colour to black, and there was finally peace and quiet.

*

"…head injury and severe damage to one wing. He'll have trouble flying for some weeks, sadly, though I can give you medication to stop the wing from hurting. Keep him in a safe environment where he can't cause himself any further complications."

The Korbat opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. His wing felt like it was on fire, and he was horribly dizzy. He seemed to be back in the berth he'd seen earlier, lying in the superfluously ruffled bed.

"Keep him?" A strident voice cut through the calm. "Did I hear the doctor right? You're going to _keep _that disruptive creature?"

"Well, for a while, Mrs. Harner." The human's voice was quieter, and less confrontational. "Like all the others."

_All the others? _So despite her apparent incompetence, he was not her first prisoner. Yet he hadn't seen any others in the building. _For a while. _What had happened to the others? What would happen to him, for that matter, once it became clear she would get nothing out of him?

"That Korbat," the loud voice went on, "got blood on my little Quiggle's shoes, and called her all manner of horrid names. Quite honestly, Melanie, I don't know where you get those hopeless cases. You should take him back where you found him, and bring home a cute little Aisha or a charming Shoyru. A well-mannered girl with a name that's actually attractive, like your Rikora Lee. It would make your life so much easier."

"And what about _his_ life?" Melanie sounded angry at the unseen speaker, angrier than the Korbat had heard her yet. "Who's going to take a number-name yellow Korbat with a bad attitude? Well?"

"I just think you'd be best advised to reconsider. I've lived in this neighbourhood longer than you have, Melanie, and I'd like to think we all play a part in taking care of it. But I know for a fact that all you're doing by keeping that pet is fostering malice around here." The voice moved further into the distance. "Good afternoon."

"Melanie, I think I saw him twitch." A pink and white blur at his side moved, and turned out to be Rikora. "You don't think he heard any of that, do you…?"

He'd had trouble recognising many of the human's emotions, but this one was easy; he could tell for a fact that she was still seething as she spoke. "I certainly hope not. The _nerve _of some people! With him lying right here, too!"

The Korbat tried to remain silent and still, but the ache in his wing made him wince for a moment. Realising it was no good pretending to be asleep, he made the best of the situation and feigned gradually waking up. Rikora's anxious face came into slightly better focus as he forced his eyelids to open all the way.

"I think he _is _waking up." Melanie took a deep breath. "Well, let's not let people upset us. She's given me a really good idea for solving one problem, anyway."

"Oh?" Rikora twitched an ear. "What's that?"

"What did Mrs. Harner say we'd be doing if we kept the Korbat?" Melanie asked. Close up, he could see a smile playing across her face.

"She said we'd be fostering malice in the—" Rikora stopped. "Oh!"

"What d'you think?" Melanie's smile turned into a full-on grin. "Given his attitude and all?"

"I think it's perfect." Rikora leant down. "Hey there, guy who scared us. Nice to see you've decided to join us in the waking world again."

The statement meant nothing to the Korbat, and so he remained silent.

"We've got news," the Neopet went on. "We think we've decided what to call you. While you're with us, anyway." She smiled. "You're… Malice."

Under the pretence of adjusting his pillow, he gave the companion device the briefest of taps. _Malice: the quality of threatening evil, pleasure in the misfortune of another._

"So what do you say?" Melanie laid a hand on his head, making him cringe with momentary pain. Obviously, refusing to accept the new label was not an option. "How do you feel about answering to that?"

"Malice." He hesitated. "It will do."

"Super." Melanie turned away from the bed. "Now, I'm going to make you some dinner. Today must have been a very strange day for you. Promise you won't smash any more of my windows with baseball bats?"

_It seems I have finally been recognised for the enemy that I am. While I have no desire to be publicly paraded as an adversary, there is a certain amount of relief in knowing that my allegiances are not too invisible for the Neopians to notice. As long as I am forced to stay here and recuperate, I may as well try to gather some intelligence about the very confusing situation I find myself in._

_Over and out._


	3. Under Pressure

**Fostering Malice**

**Chapter 3:  
Under Pressure**

_Memo dictation start:_

_If this is the last communication you receive from me, please [gulp] assume the worst and make preparations for a different course of action. I knew the non-threatening demeanour of the Neopians could not last, but I never thought the end would come so soon._

_My jailer—the one referred to as "Melanie"—has left me, for the time being. But I can see no means of escape from the place she has brought me to. There are no windows, and strange potions and equipment line the walls—instruments of my upcoming interrogation, no doubt. I will tell them nothing of the invasion plans, of course, but Melanie's casual disregard for the lives of her prisoners leaves me with little hope…_

It had been a simple question, asked with no other goal than gathering intelligence. He had noticed the photographs in the hallway on his way down the stairs. Pictures of Neopets, all different colours and species, with a note underneath each one. In a moment of weakness, he'd been polite and deferent to Rikora Lee in order to satisfy his curiosity. "What are those pictures?"

"Oh!" She'd smiled. "They're all the pets who were here before you. It's getting to be quite an impressive list, isn't it?"

He'd taken a closer look at the notes pinned beneath them, and a chill had run down his spine.

_Della  
11/07/Y9-30/04/Y10_

_Katrin  
01/05/Y10-26/05/Y10_

_Samuel  
28/05/Y10-16/08/Y10_

Two dates, underneath each one. Mostly only months apart. Were they measuring… the pets' lifetimes? That surely couldn't be true. Could it?

"Can I see them?" he managed. "I'd like to talk to them… perhaps…"

"I'm afraid you can't." Rikora shook her head. "They're no longer here."

"Wh-what happened to them?" To his shame, he heard a tremor in his voice.

"What happened to them?" Melanie echoed the words from behind him. She must have sneaked up while he was absorbed in looking at the pictures. "Well, how about we show you, Malice?"

Before he could protest, he had been bundled up in a blanket and carried outside in her tight grasp.

That was how he had been brought here, before being left alone by the psychotic human and her Cybunny. The room was dark and cold, but he could make out strange substances bubbling in tubes, and metallic equipment gleaming in shadowy corners. What was going to happen to him, he didn't want to think.

He had thought he was alone in the room, but a wild-looking figure suddenly stood up from behind a heavy workbench. "Aha. You must be the new test subject, yes? Excellent. Step this way."

Struggling seemed to do no good. The Neopet, a Scorchio, had wings and strong, heavy arms. Despite his best efforts, he was strapped into a large chair in front of the biggest machine of them all. His life, largely a collection of training sessions and angry commanding officers, began flashing before his eyes as the Scorchio brought down one claw on a huge button.

A burst of light arced across the room and struck him directly in the chest. He winced automatically, then realised that he wasn't feeling any pain. Was he already dead? No, his wing was still aching. But the beam didn't seem to have had any bad effects on him. He wasn't hurting, or paralysed, or suddenly inclined to tell his captors everything about the invasion plan. In fact, if anything, he felt… stronger. More powerful. That couldn't be right, could it?

The Scorchio made a short tutting sound at the back of his throat, and unlocked the door. Melanie and Rikora tumbled into the room, hurrying over to undo his straps. "Oh, Malice! Are you all right? You look as if you've seen a ghost!"

"Your Neopet," the Scorchio said without any apparent emotion, "gained three strength points."

"C'mon, then." Melanie lifted the trembling Korbat down from the chair. "Let's go home."

He knew he probably shouldn't speak up as they made their way back. He had escaped with his life, and for that he was grateful. But he simply had to know. "Did that machine… really make me more powerful?"

"By a little bit," Melanie nodded. "I hope you weren't planning on being a Battledomer, though? By the time we're done with you, your stats will be way too skewed to train. It's an unfortunate side effect."

Side effect. "So you didn't intend to make me stronger?"

"Not especially. I mean, obviously it's a good thing, but it's not exactly what we were aiming for."

Utterly confused, he fell silent again.

Could it be that he had fallen into the hands of a sympathiser? A secret supporter who had figured him out from the beginning? He shook his head, dismissing the possibility. There were a few supporters of the Leader left on Kreludor and the outer planets of Neopia's solar system, but not here. To be a Neopian was to oppose everything he stood for. There had to be some other explanation.

"And we're home." Melanie, her arms still full of Korbat, gestured for Rikora to unlock the door. "'Kora, there's some negg pie on the kitchen worktop. Just needs heating up in the oven. I've got to go out and get… something."

The Korbat's ears pricked up again. That was definitely a conspiratory nod Melanie was giving to her pet. He didn't think his system could tolerate any more frights like this morning's. He had to stay one step ahead of her, no matter what was about to happen.

Rikora motioned for him to sit down at the table and lit the oven in the corner. He had to admit, the smell that began to rise from it was very good indeed. His near-death experience had made him hungrier than he'd realised.

"Hope your first lab zap wasn't too traumatic for you." She looked a little awkward. "Hadn't… hadn't you ever heard of the lab before?"

He shook his head silently.

"Wow." She stared. "I've never met a pet before who hasn't heard of it at all. Even the littlest ones hear about it from their older friends. No wonder you looked so ill in there. You'll be okay tomorrow, though, right?"

"…Tomorrow?"

"Well, yes." Rikora gave him a puzzled look. "You have to keep going back there until we get what we want."

So it was an interrogation tool after all? He rubbed his bandaged wing absently, wondering what was going on.

"Malice! 'Kora!" Melanie banged on the door to be let in. She was carrying an enormous basket that made it hard for her to manoeuvre. "I didn't miss the pie, did I?"

"It's right here." Rikora happily pulled Melanie into the house. "Did you get… what you went out for?" Again, that knowing look. The Cybunny even winked.

"I sure did. Let me get my shoes off, and we can give Malice his surprise."

The Korbat sat on the opposite side of the table to Melanie and Rikora, his wings spread protectively in front of him. If the worst came to the worst, he could liberate the knife from the butter-dish. It wasn't the best weapon for a fight, but it was better than nothing.

"Look what I bought for you!" With a flourish, Melanie pulled the cloth off the top of the basket. "Ta-da!"

Sitting in the basket was… it had to be a _creature_, the Korbat decided. Not even the diabolical Neopians could have made one of their plushies look like that. Apart from its white colour, it looked like one of the puffy dusters he had used to polish the floor of Commander Batrien's cabin as punishment detail. Its eyes were huge compared to most of its proportions, and as round as saucers. It looked up at him with an unreadable expression.

"A Babaa! Oh, Melanie, I'm soooo jealous!" Rikora tugged playfully on the human's hair. "Malice, you're so lucky! Babaas are the cutest!"

"I'm sorry." He looked down at the thing in the basket. "What exactly is this supposed to be?"

"Did your owner keep you under a _rock_?--" Rikora began, before noticing Melanie frantically gesturing to her. "Um, I mean… it's a Petpet, Malice. It'll stay with you when we're asleep or not around, and it'll sleep by your bed, and learn things from you, and follow you everywhere! Isn't that cute?"

Of course. Lacking in technology, the Neopians must have perfected a living surveillance device. After his attempted escape the previous day, it was only natural that they would want to assign one to him. The enormous eyes of the creature were already trained on him, and he felt a little less at ease than before.

Rikora nudged him. "Say thank you to Melanie, Malice," she prompted. "She went out of her way to get that Petpet for you. People will think you haven't any manners."

He sighed. "Thank you, Melanie."

"You're welcome. Right. Let's see about this pie, then."

-. .-

The rest of the day passed without incident. Still worn out after his brush with terror at the laboratory, the Korbat was allowed to take a nap in his room. He slept most of the day away, only coming downstairs for his next meal. Despite its closeness, he wasn't about to try his luck with the window again.

Dinner was not as good as the negg pie had been, but still better than his normal rations on board the ship. What he had taken for protein bars in a cushioned wrapper turned out to be something entirely different, and he was unable to contain his surprise when Melanie and Rikora cheerfully tucked into theirs.

"You eat the wrapper?" he questioned, sure there must be some kind of mistake.

"Wrapper? This isn't a wrapper, Malice." Melanie frowned. "It's a hot dog bun. If we didn't eat that, we'd only have the sausage."

Tentatively, he copied them. To his surprise, the cushion tasted rather good.

When dinner was over, Melanie washed the dishes. Rikora held out a paw to stop the Korbat as he was about to head back upstairs. "Hold up. I want to play with your Babaa for a little bit. Can I? Can I?"

He gave a small nod, and she grinned. "Melanie keeps saying she's going to get me a petpet one of these days, but then we both get so wrapped up in fostering stuff that she forgets. You have such an adorable little Babaa there! Have you given any thought to its name yet?"

"Name?" he echoed, looking at the creature. He hadn't realised surveillance devices had names.

"Sure! Every Petpet needs a name. Don't worry if you can't think of one. We found a name for you. We can certainly find one for a Babaa."

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out something green. He recognised it as part of the salad they'd had with their dinner. "Here ya go, little one. Want something nice?"

The Babaa chewed on the leaf, showing every sign of enjoying it. He had never seen such a thing before. The only nonsentient organisms that ever got fed on his old ship were the pets that had temporarily been knocked unconscious by experimental potions. Robots only needed oil.

As he watched, Rikora chased the little creature in circles around the room. It squeaked and ran away from her, but it didn't really seem to be scared.

"I'm sure you two are going to get on," she panted, flopping down onto the sofa after several dozen laps of the room. "And if you don't, well, I'd be happy to look after it."

He should record this. Nodding in deference to Rikora and Melanie, he backed out of the room and hurried up the stairs, the Babaa bounding after him as if its energy hadn't been depleted at all by the chase.

-. .-

The light went off outside the Korbat's room, suggesting that Melanie and Rikora had gone to bed. Having slept a lot of the day away, he wasn't tired yet. He propped himself up on his good wing, keeping an eye on the Babaa that watched him unceasingly from beside the bed.

He assessed the situation silently. He was still in captivity, and that didn't look likely to be changing any time soon. And now, the Neopians had him under constant observation. On the other hand, things could have been a lot worse. His captors seemed unwilling to harm him, and their devices even seemed to have beneficial side effects on him. He was being well fed, and allowed to move freely around the building. In short, this seemed like a comparatively safe space to rest while his injuries healed.

For now, although he had no plans to escape at the moment, it would be wise to take a better look at the immediate area and plot possible routes for the future. As long as he didn't get too far from the building, he guessed, the Babaa wouldn't alert his captors. With the creature following him, he quietly left his room and headed down the stairs.

The door was only locked from the inside. With a quick turn of the latch, he was able to step out into the darkness.

Neopia at night was a strange sight, quite different from anything he'd seen previously. Although the sun had disappeared, the sky wasn't the familiar black of space, but a velvety deep blue. A white circle shimmered somewhere far above, and he wondered what it was for a few moments before the pattern of barely visible ridges and lines jogged his memory. This shining ball must be what Kreludor looked like from here. An amazing thought, really.

The Babaa looked nervous as it followed in his pawsteps, but it did nothing to dissuade him. He wondered just how far he could get before it would sense danger. It really was amazing, the degree of freedom these Neopians were prepared to give him. They were definite amateurs. But then, he reflected, he'd excelled at refusing to give in to their methods. Imprisonment behind bars had only reinforced his intent to escape. Their attempts to demoralise him, then to offer him extra liberty in return for his good behaviour, had completely failed to change his viewpoint. He had not wavered in the face of their horrible-looking interrogation devices, their even worse-looking prison guard lizards, and the unknown threat of whatever had happened to Melanie's previous prisoners. He could only presume that the Neopians had not actually developed truth drugs, otherwise they would have been used already. That was just about every basic trick in the jailer's arsenal, wasn't it?

Or was it? He hesitated. That training session had been several years ago, and he had the horrible feeling that he was forgetting something. One part of the lesson. One tactic the Neopians hadn't yet used on him. What was it?

"Baaaaah!"

The Babaa jumped towards him, suddenly frightened. Tensing, he looked around to see what could have startled the creature.

A Neopet was standing in the middle of the street, a few feet away from him. A few taps of the companion device, hampered by the need to keep his eyes on the newcomer, suggested that the pet could be one of three species: a Pteri, a Bruce or a Lenny. It was rather smaller than he was, and a rather silly shade of pink. But these considerations took second place to the fact that the first real weapon he'd seen on this planet, a laser gun, was now trained on him.

Curses. The Neopians must have been aware of his little expedition after all, though he'd never seen such a puny-looking guard. Curses, curses, curses. He would have been able to overpower the tiny pet in an unarmed fight, but trying to do so now would put him in even greater danger. (Where had such a small, weak-looking pet ever got a laser gun? Even Melanie and Rikora only seemed to have that one wooden stick, between them.) If he'd been in his old body he could have flung the Babaa at his opponent and used the distraction to strike, but with his wing still badly hurt that wasn't an option. The only obvious choice was to back down.

"I'm sorry!" He spread his wings wide for a second, to show the guard that he was unarmed. "I assure you, I wasn't escaping. I simply wanted to stretch my legs a little. I'll return to my berth now. Sir."

Keeping his eyes on the guard, he backed slowly towards the front door. The important thing was not to look confrontational. Be nonthreatening. Head lowered, he folded his wings again to make himself as small as possible. A few more steps…

"Ga!"

Without warning, the Neopet fired its weapon. Malice barely had time to dodge. Knowing he couldn't get away in the split-second before the blast hit, he threw out his uninjured wing to try and take the worst of the damage.

"Gaga! Blblblbl!"

Speaking in nonsense syllables, the strange pet vanished back into the shadows as quickly as it had arrived. Malice uncurled from his defensive posture, very, very slowly. His wing didn't hurt at all, and while it was hard to tell in the dark, a quick look at the skin didn't show any damage. Had the guard missed after all? Not possible at that kind of range. No, the gun itself must have been defunct. A flash of light, but no injuries. That had to be it.

Enough reconnaissance for one night. He was shaken and unsettled, and it was probably better to be indoors. He turned his back on the street, and began walking back towards the door. Oddly enough, it seemed further than he'd estimated. His guesses weren't generally wrong when it came to mathematics.

As he entered, a shadow suddenly loomed over him—not Melanie or Rikora come downstairs to investigate, but something behind him, standing on the step just a hair's breadth away. It must have sneaked up on him while he'd been distracted. Terrified of what he might see, he turned his head very slowly.

A pair of enormous dark eyes looked into his. "BAAAAH?"

The Babaa! Malice clutched at his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. Of course. The guard must have reported details of his little sortie, and this formerly benign surveillance unit had been supersized in order to control him better. No longer small and harmless-looking, it was now as big as he was. He had had no idea the Neopians possessed such powers. Were they capable of resizing their Neopets, too?

No matter. Not for now. All that mattered for tonight was getting back to his room safely. The stairs seemed much harder to climb than he remembered. No doubt he was exhausted after yet another terrifying experience. Eventually, he reached his own room and his own bed. To his tired body it seemed like an enormous oasis of peace and warmth, and no sooner had he flopped onto the mattress than he fell fast asleep.

-. .-

The flood of morning light through the window made the previous night's terrors seem like little more than a bad dream. Malice stretched, enjoying his newfound energy. He had slept well, despite the experience. Oh, well. Time to eat and wash before being taken for another round with the strange machine.

Melanie was in the kitchen, busily slicing something on the chopping board. "Morning, Malice," she yawned. "I'll have some breakfast for you in two ticks. Just grab some milk out of the fridge and—_sainted Fyora on a bicycle_! 'Kora! RIKORA!"

The Cybunny came running in. "What is it, Melanie? Did you cut yourself? Shall I get the first-aid box—oh!"

"What?" Malice was becoming increasingly uneasy. "Why are you both staring at me like that?"

Rikora seemed unable to move. Slowly, stutteringly, she pointed a paw towards something: the mirror in the hall. He rushed across the room, stumbling over his own feet in his hurry, and looked into the glass.

_Although it serves as only a small consolation, I wish to report to Commander Batrien that his current training regime is a success. I can now recall all of the coercion tactics taught to us in our basic training. Solitary confinement. Demoralising messages. Privileges in exchange for cooperation. Sensory shock. Interrogation under threat. Drug use and hypnotism. …And humiliation._

_Over and out._


End file.
